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Chapter 3 - CHAPTER TWO

Jeremiah Colchester

I believe in the universe. Especially the spiritual stuff.

Courtesy of my African-French-American descent, though if I'm being honest, my mother deserves all the credits. 

She has always been a strong believer of life— the universe— offering second chances. She devotes her life to preaching this truth in every way she can articulate it.

"The only thing beautiful about life, other than my beautiful family, of course, is second chances; you will see that even if you're blind." She often says.

And perhaps I have rolled my eyes a probable thousand times at her attempts to make that point stick over the years, but in this moment, what little part of me that had doubted her in the past now leans all of its weight against regret.

"Disappointment seems a bit of a stretch, don't you think? I'm merely in awe of your presence once again." He extends his hand, as if this is supposed to be a business meeting, his eyes stern, holding more emotions than he fights to hide.

I smile, maneuvering his hand to press a kiss in the back of it before sitting across from him.

His eyes widen, darting around the room, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I thought we were here on a date. Looks like you had other intentions."

He scoffs, no longer bothering to school his emotions.

"I know you think you're all that, but—" he takes a deep breath, quickly regaining his composure, "I have no clue what you mean."

He's embarrassed, I didn't mean for that. Then again I can't help myself when I start laughing; he's exactly as I remembered. "Do you always assume everything's against you?"

He doesn't reply. Instead, he waves to Rahul and politely requests lemon water. Rahul winks at me as he strides off. This— my date— shouldn't be mortifying; I wanted this. However, my colleagues will undoubtedly make it all about themselves before they can do what's right. They are the reason it's happening here in the first place.

"By other intentions, I meant your offer for a shake. I come from a household that teaches moral codes for interactions, which kind of zeroes out handshakes on dates." I clarify.

I don't miss the realisation that sparks in his chestnut brown eyes.The sunlight casts an illumination that highlights everything beautiful one's eyes can possibly possess. 

"Maybe we did get off on the wrong foot," he says, reclining in his seat, "My name is Sean Maurice. I'm your date. Nice to meet you."

My lips curve into a smug smile, "Jeremiah Colchester."

His lemon water arrives, and he mutters a "thank you" to Rahul, who nods curtly before turning to me and mouthing, "He's way out of your league." then clears his throat and asks out loud, "Would you like anything, sir?"

I give him a stern look, "No."

"We have lot of options you can choose from, sir. We have—"

"I'm fine."

Sean looks up from his phone, arching his brows in silent inquiry before erasing every trace of it in one fluid motion. I'll never understand how he does that. I smile back, timidly. "I'm fine for now." I reiterate to Rahul, who winks mockingly again before walking away. 

I shake my head, taking a small breath to ground myself. This is my date. Not theirs.

"So, what do you do, other than work here?" he asks, dropping his phone onto the table, centering his gaze back on me. 

"I take it you like the place I've chosen?"

"Yes, it's..." he glances around, and the same sparks I'd noticed dancing in his eyes when we stood in front of the bookshelf returns. His hair is a lighter shade of the brown I remember; it's shorter too. It suits him. He's even more beautiful than all those blank images my mind has conjured over the years. "Transcendental." A small smile etched is on his lips; he's hiding it. But it's there. Very much there.

"What do you do?" he repeats.

I lean closer, "There is so much more. Would you mind if I ordered something for you?"

"What I wouldn't mind Is knowing what you do for a living."

"Does that matter to you?"

He's slightly taken aback, "what?"

"Would it alter the outcome of this date? what I do for a living?"

"Of course not, but—"

"Then I would like to share something I find very interesting with you. After that, you can decide if you still want to go at this professionally."

He looks like he'd like to argue, nothing would please him more, but he decides against it. "Fine."

I wave blindly for someone behind me, this time it's Ada. She's grinning so widely, anyone would assume this is some pick me contest. 

"We'll have a bowl of Fruppuccino please." I say, raising a brow so she can swallow whatever comment she's about to throw my way. It doesn't stop her at all. "You are so getting laid!" she mouths.

I make a mental image of slapping my palm against my forehead— I should never have fallen for, "We'll behave. Promise we will."

"What's a Frupp...uh... what's that?" Sean asks, pulling me out of my head.

"Fruppuccino. You'll see." I reach for his lemon water, silently asking if he minds. He shakes his head. "So... you're new to New York, uh?"

He stares at me with scrutiny, as if searching for something to trust. "Hm." He nods.

"How are you liking it here so far?"

"Ivory tells me you're childhood friends with Arman." He changes the topic. I nod, leaning in a bit to rest my arms against the table. "How did you meet?"

"You suck at dates, don't you?" I ask.

"Is it that obvious?" 

"It's probably the only thing you've willingly given out, without attempting to cowl it."

"I don't cowl things." He's defensive. Paranoid. I've always liked that about him.

"Really?"

"Oh, don't start." He rolls his eyes.

"Start what?"

"You're gonna start listing a few many things that makes me easily read and won't stop until I admit you're right."

"And here I was thinking you never noticed a thing about me." 

He laughs, it's genuine. It warms my heart. "Oh, you're very noticeable, okay?" he waves a hand around, "Everyone in this room probably has their lives revolved around their careers, and the importance of living smart. But you..." He's silent for a beat, simply watching me. It's in this moment that reading his expression becomes difficult. "You're, well, just— you." 

"I assume that's a compliment."

"I would think so, too." Is all he says, then looks out through the translucent glass to absorb the busy street outside.

His freckles shine as they meet the sun, giving more mystery to him. He's like a poem you've had all your life to think you understood, only to realize one day, that maybe there's more to it than just the meaning.

"Here's something I've never told anyone before."

He's quick to interrupt, "No, I don't do secrets. Especially not from strangers.

I shrug, "I'm not a stranger. I know at least a dozen people you know. That makes me sort of someone you'd recognize even if we're only meeting for the first time." That's not all a lie.

His face reflects him testing that idea in his head, trying to make sense of it. Then, "Fine. Just one secret, that's it." He says.

"Promise," I mutter, fishing my fingers through my pocket to pull out my wallet. I take out a small photograph and slide it to his side of the table.

"This is the same photograph framed there on the bookshelf." Sean says.

I nod, "what else do you notice?"

He makes a scrutinizing face, lips thinned and brows pinched, as he brings the photograph close to examine it. "Is this... a person? No, it's a boy. Almost covered by the the poor lightning, but with a closer look, you can tell he's there, lost in the nothingness."

His smile is balmy, excited to have finally cracked the secret of the photograph. His eyes wrinkle just the right way, just the way I know. and his face brightens with the simplicity of that smile.

"He was my first love."

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